


Hadesia

by LeafOffTheWind (LeafOnTheWind)



Series: Ficlet Roulette [7]
Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore
Genre: Fake Holiday, Festivals, Gen, Holiday Fic Exchange, Holidays, Nonbinary Character, Not Beta Read, Party, Thanatos Hates Parties, Unseen Backstory, Villain PoV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:20:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28166916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeafOnTheWind/pseuds/LeafOffTheWind
Summary: Thanatos hates parties, and so do most of the death gods. Hades and Persephone try to rectify this.
Relationships: Background Hades/Persephone (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore)
Series: Ficlet Roulette [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2006431
Kudos: 10
Collections: Fanfic Roulette 2020 Round 8: Holiday Theme!





	Hadesia

**Author's Note:**

> For a fic exchange. The prompts:
> 
> IP: Greek / Roman Mythology  
> Prompt 1: Villain POV Adventure  
> Prompt 2: Unseen Backstory  
> Additional: Holiday theme
> 
> So the thing in Greek mythology is that people and gods aren't really... villains. They're just people. So I just picked the gods that tend to be fairly unpleasantly depicted.
> 
> Another thing is that Greek myths don't have much in the way of _unseen_ backstory. That's what the myths are: backstory. So I took _that_ to be the backstory of a fake holiday I made up so it would fit in with this set's holiday theme.
> 
> This is fine.

_“And there the children of dark Night have their dwellings, Sleep and Death, awful gods. The glowing Sun never looks upon them with his beams, neither as he goes up into heaven, nor as he comes down from heaven. And the former of them roams peacefully over the earth and the sea's broad back and is kindly to men; but the other has a heart of iron, and his spirit within him is pitiless as bronze: whomsoever of men he has once seized he holds fast: and he is hateful even to the deathless gods.”_

\- Hesiod, Theogony 758

Among their siblings, Thanatos has always thought themself fairly agreeable. Charon was alright, but Oizys? Eris? The _Keres_? Goodness gracious.

Even those not of their kin, there are some terrible gods and goddesses out there. Ares was a bloodthirsty sort, certainly, yet it is _they_ , Thanatos, who is so rudely excluded, every time. Every single get-together on Mount Olympus, no matter how small, the gods drink nectar and ambrosia, those things dripping eternal life that so repel deathly gods such as them.

Their domain is desperately needed, they all know so, else they wouldn’t have helped them from the shackles King Sisyphus (may Tartarus curse his soul, the arse) locked them in, and yet.

And _yet_.

It’s not only the gods, either, but the mortals, too. They understand their fear, but it would be _wonderful_ to get some recognition for their hard work once and awhile. Thanatos, nor Charon, nor Hades, nor Styx were gods that expected to have festivals for them (though Hades was also the god of riches, surely there would be something there?), for those who work _so hard all the time_ to ensure the afterlife didn’t fall into disarray.

Yes, Hestia and Demeter and Apollo and Athena deserve their feasts, there is no doubt there. But oh, how it _grates_ on Thanatos.

They don’t even _like_ parties, as they said. The gods of death know the impact of parties all too well, which makes it _so much worse_.

The large fests come around, the mortals are celebrating the harvest at Kronia, the gods are partying it up the mountain, and _they_ are stuck retrieving souls dead from drunken brawls, from incompetent horse racing, from witless blunders, from inebriation itself.

Hermes does help sometimes, but never on festival days. The others have no _idea_ how annoying a drunk soul is to get to Hades. The number of times a soul dead drunk has tipped over Charon’s boat isn’t _high_ , but it’s _nonzero_ , which, considering all the enchantments on that vessel, is very impressive.

The point is, mortal festivals just pile on the work and Mt. Olympus parties are inaccessible and full of insufferable gods regardless.

Keeping all this in mind, it’s understandable why Thanatos is rather baffled by Hades announcing the onset of a new festival. It is not mortal, nor are the inconsiderate gods above invited, but rather a smaller event, for those who are so often shunted to the side in such nominally jovial events.

Thanatos is initially concerned for the backlog sure to build up, but Hades assures them that Hermes Psychopomp will be handling what needs to be done for that day.

They feel a vicious satisfaction that he will be unable to join, even knowing he does them a favor each time he lends his wings. It is not fair, no, but when has Olympus ever been?

Hades sets the date: the winter solstice, a fitting foil to Kronia, Thanatos presumes, and of course very fitting ambiance-wise, being the depths of winter. It was always going to be winter, naturally; there is no world in which Hades schedules something such as this without his lady love. They wonder if this will become a recurring event, and if so, what it shall be named. Something in the same vein, they think. Hadesia, perhaps, as it is all the deathly gods, and held in Hades, and themed therein.

Persephone, ever the overachiever, grows an arch of yew and mistletoe in the throne room, transformed however briefly into a feast fit for kings. With so many gods unable to eat and drink nectar and ambrosia, the tables instead pile high with luscious pear and roasted carrots basted in luscious browned butter, beets and basil staining crumbles of feta a bright pink, more than one roast hog layered with lemon and rosemary and fig. The sweetness of baklava and warmth of melomakarona, the crumbly almond kourabiethes and the comfort of a perfect karythopia spice cake and a hundred dishes, old and new, fill the air with a warmth and contentedness not often seen in the cool depths of the Underworld. What space remains is liberally scattered with the deep red of pomegranate seeds. Persephone is such a romantic.

For this one day, Hades opens the gates of the Elysian Fields, the Asphodel Meadows, and Tartarus—Tartarus!—each soul marked as it exits to join the feast. The respite is no reason to be careless.

Thanatos spots fricking _Sisyphus_ across the expansive hall and turns right around. They are _not_ dealing with that man ever again, if they can help it. Instead, they spot some particularly bright souls they’d escorted several centuries back, a group who had been friends in life who’d died together. They always remember the bright souls.

The gods below mingle with the souls of their domains, those of Tartarus filled with relief, those of the Fields and Meadows joy at seeing their loved ones who may not have found themselves in the same afterlife, all filling their bellies with decadence and drunk on each other and a hearty helping of wine. As the hours tick by, Thanatos begins to understand what the gods above get out of their fêtes, and find themself flitting about people whom they’d helped, and those they’d delivered.

At the end of the night, Hades and Persephone pull away from the event to the side room for a bit, returning with sparkling eyes and rumpled robes that they straighten with hardly a thought. Their feet take them to their thrones for the first time since the gates were opened, and the sight slowly affects the room, the shouts becoming murmurs becoming silence.

Thanatos drifts with the other gods of the underworld to the dais upon which the thrones sit, curious what else Hades has to offer. They have worked together long enough to know that look on his face.

He does not disappoint.

“Gods, Goddesses, souls of the damned and the blessed and all those in between, have you enjoyed your feast?”

A great cheer rises, thunderously echoing through the hall. Hades raises his hand and they quiet once more.

“This day is a tribute to not only myself, the steward of Hades, but all those you see before you, beside you, those who are yet above you until the day one of us must bring them to meet you all once more. The spirit of death and peace were to be the themes of the day, and yet there is another that was unexpected to us all,” a dramatic pause. “Redemption.”

Whispers begin to cross the lips of many a soul. Thanatos is equally confused, but perfectly willing to listen, particularly after today.

“It is not an easy thing, to admit a fault,” Hades continues, “and yet it appears the underworld has been stagnant. My dearest wife,” he says with a fond smile, gripping Persephone’s graceful hand, “has pointed out to me what, in truth, I have seen from the moment I opened Tartarus.

“When a soul comes to Hades, they are judged. The worth of their life, of their soul, is judged and sorted accordingly. I’m certain those that help along the way can testify that this is no easy job, nor a light task for so few. I regret to say that your efforts may be redoubled by my decree, and yet it is necessary.

“This day, I have met and re-met so many souls, those of the Fields and of the Meadows and of Tartarus, and I have found many whom have been in the latter for many years, decades, centuries, and have, perhaps, seen that they must change, yet have not had the opportunity to do so.

“Those souls that wish it shall henceforth have the chance for redemption. Should they wish it, a soul shall be taken up to once per decade for a re-weighing and the chance to enter the Meadows. Those in the Elysian Fields, too, have a choice to enter the Meadows should they so choose. As of right now, both will be one-way trips.

“In the spirit of this learning, we have decided upon the first to be released from Tartarus. This man has been tenacious in his punishment, though he knew it a futile task.”

_Oh don’t you dare._

“His afterlife has been an uphill climb to his own humility after tricking one of our own.”

 _Don’t you do it, anyone but him_.

“And after speaking with him today, we both know that the former King Sisyphus has endured more than enough at his own hands. We welcome him to his new afterlife in the Asphodel Meadows,” Hades raises his voice now, the chatter growing like a tsunami as Sisyphus’ mark changes from the red of Tartarus to the soft blue of the Meadows, “and the audits for souls that wish it shall begin one week hence, favoring those with no complaints against them. Good luck to you all, and Happy Hadesia!”

_FUCK._

Never mind. Thanatos _hates_ parties.


End file.
